


Micro-Strikes

by Bettys_blend



Series: Microstrikes and Strikethroughs [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Chocolate Sauce, Farting sofa, Gen, Literary References & Allusions, Metafiction, Microfic, Points if I get more words in the tags than in the fic, Robin in a Huff, gluten-free, probably been done before, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bettys_blend/pseuds/Bettys_blend
Summary: Teeny tiny ficlets because I have a short attention span and oh look, a squirrel
Series: Microstrikes and Strikethroughs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189466
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	1. Remains to be seen

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't going to post this. But I said, what the heck.  
> Maybe there will be more.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we identify strongly with Robin's impatience

Strike, seated at the partners' desk, looked up to find Robin standing over him, looking stormy and- he chuckled inwardly- attempting to loom.

"Something wrong?" he asked mildly, not expecting any real trouble.

"This," she spat, slamming an oldish paperback down in front of him. "I think you should read it. It's five and I'm off to the pub."

He turned the book over and inspected the title. _The Remains of the Day._

"What makes you think I haven't?" he called after her retreating form, just as she slammed the door.


	2. Nuclear Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we sneak a peek at a sultry Valentine's Day yet to come.

Robin slumped back on the flatulent sofa, face flushed, her neck sticky against the fake leather. She could just detect the echo of her racing heartbeat in her ears.

"My Christ, that was..."

Her eyelids drooped.

"Incredible," panted Strike, similarly incapacitated beside her, his long limbs flung about in careless disarray. "Say incredible, Ellacott. Say something."

"Exquisite," she breathed, eventually. "That bit with the chocolate sauce...I did not see that coming."

"That turned out to be a very good idea," he drawled out, sounding like whiskey over gravel. He pushed a lock of sweat-dampened hair back behind her ear while turning ponderously to face her. "Look at me. I can't even move."

They both ignored the trumpet-like reports that had issued from the sofa when he shifted his weight.

"Your own fault," she whispered. "You know it." A delicious wave of sleepiness was lapping at her from her toes up.

He grinned. "Want another go?"

"What?" One of her eyes popped open. "You can't be serious."

"Dead serious, Ellacott." He ran a single finger down her arm. "Should be ready in...oh, give metwo hours."

Robin sighed. She was sated, comatose, melting bonelessly into the contours of the upholstery, and she couldn't be arsed to shout at him.

"Strike?"

"Yes, love?" 

Her voice was just barely audible as she sank deeper into the protesting sofa.

"Don't make me any more fucking cheesecake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blew this by leaking it on Discord but whattheheck.


End file.
